Mechas, Marzipan, and Mouse Kings
by Matrix Refugee
Summary: The Nutcracker Ballet retold in the A.I. universe: On Christmas eve, Dr. Hobby's niece recieves a very surprising little Mecha from her uncle
1. Prologue: Christmas Eve

+J.M.J.+

Mechas, Marzipan, and Mouse Kings

By "Matrix Refugee"

Author's Note:

I have to admit that I'm sort of an arts geek. I studied ballet for five years and I once wanted to try out for a student production of _The Nutcracker_, but I was too tall. But…I got to thinking that the story of the ballet would blend well with the characters of "A.I.", or at least the concepts. The first act features two life-size dancing dolls, after all…

Disclaimer:

I do not "own" the characters, concepts, or other indicia of "A.I.: Artificial Intelligence", which are the property of the late Stanley Kubrick, the great Steven Spielberg, DreamWorks SKG, Warner Brothers, et al. I don't own _The Nutcracker_ ballet either, which was based on "The Nutcracker and the Mouse King" by E.T.A. Hoffman, with music by Peter Illych Tchaikovsky. (I will have the link to some online MIDIs of the music, in the next chapter)

Prologue: Christmas Eve

(Musical Reference: _The Nutcracker_: Overture)

 Clair Hobby peered down the spiral stairs of her parents' house, toward the open door to the parlor, the doors that opened only on special occasions, and the evening of that day promised to be a very special occasion. Her parents, Tessia and Corwin Hobby, were holding their Christmas party. Tessia, or Mom to Clair's half-brother Fritz, was decorating the tree with help from James, their serving man, and Tony, the houseboy. All night long she'd heard the servants moving about, cleaning and polishing the simulwoodwork until it shone.

She wasn't allowed into the room until that night. Tessia always decorated the room with a different theme each year, and she kept her plans very secret, although Clair had found some of the boxes of ornaments in the basement and peeked at them.

"I wonder what Uncle Alan's gonna give us this year," she heard Fritz say behind her.

"Oh, shut _up_, Fritz!" she hissed. "You're always looking for what you can get for yourself out of something."

Fritz shoved himself under Clair's arm. He was only ten, but he'd been born knowing how to be a major pain in the neck. "Lemme see down," he said.

"Stop pushing," she whispered. "Tessia's gonna hear you."

Tony passed by below them, carrying a large box, but he walked by so quickly and purposefully that neither of them could see what it could be.

"What did he have?" Fritz hissed.

"I don't know; you were in my way," Clair snipped.

"I bet it's stuff to put under the tree."

"It was probably stuff to put _on_ the tree, you goose!"

"Have it your way," Fritz growled. "I bet it's the Operation Mutant Strikeforce set I asked for."

"There you go again! Do you always have to think like that, about what you're getting?"

"Isn't that what Christmas parties are all about? Getting stuff?"

"That's only a little part of it. It's about seeing your family and friends all together."

"Well, I bet _you're_ wondering what Uncle Alan's gonna bring you…Ain't you a little old for that?"

"Oh, _stop_! I'm fourteen—"

"You'll be fourteen in May."

"I'm a little over thirteen and a half," she said, stiffly. "Besides, I heard Uncle Alan might not come this time: he had a hard year, this year, first the David prototype disappeared, then the ARM tried to kill him."

"They only gouged out his right eye: he lived, didn't he? He's supposed to get a transplant."

"Fritz, don't be so graphic…He still might not show up."

"You're just saying that to put me off."

"No, I heard it from Gussie, who heard it from Dad."

"Well, you didn't hear it straight from Dad, so that doesn't count."

"It counts as something."

"You're just talking."

A tall figure with iron gray hair and black brows over a square but aristocratic face approached the foot of the stairs and ascended.

"Now you've done it!" Fritz hissed. "Here comes James."

"I've done it?! You were the one making the most noise," Clair shot back.

The figure in the black vest over a white shirt and black dress slacks paused a few steps below them.

"Master Fritz, Miss Clair: your mother has heard your chatter even downstairs," James said in the calm, cadenced voice of his class. "You know she wants no peeking until tonight."

"Can we peek then?" Fritz twitted.

The question bypassed the serving man's logic. "Miss Clair, if you like, you may assist Gussie in the kitchen." He turned his dark eyes toward Fritz. "And Master Fritz, aren't you supposed to practice your piece for the party?"

"Oh, all right," Fritz groused, heading upstairs to his room. "Next year, I'll ask Uncle Alan to get us a piano-playing Mecha!"

"Oh be quiet," Clair snapped, heading down. James bowed to her and preceded her down. She was at an age when her parents' house Mechas had begun to treat her like an adult, but when the Orga adults still treated her like a kid. She hadn't asked for anything for Christmas. She was too old really for Supertoys, and it would be four, well, three and a half years, before she could have a companion Mecha of her own, and she wasn't sure if she really wanted one. 

But she was still young enough to enjoy all the bustle of the holidays without having the adult stress to contend with. And she was old enough that she could really start helping.

She found Gussie in the kitchen, mixing a bowl of sugared almond paste for the marzipan. The comfortable-looking female figure looked up from the bowl, the slight smile on her face widening.

"Hello, Miss Clair. You must have received the message James was bringing you," she said, with a slight German accent.

"He couldn't have come at a better time: Fritz was getting awful," Clair said, rolling up her sleeves.

"Oh? Why, what did he do that was so awful?"

"Oh, shoving me…when I was, uh, peeking over the banister, looking to see what Tessia was doing."

"You still enjoy watching your mother decorate the parlor for Christmas," Gussie said. "That is a good thing: it means you have not grown up too fast."

She rolled her eyes a little, but she realized that the Mecha-woman was right.

Gussie set aside the bowl of sugared almond paste. "But you have not outgrown helping in the kitchen," she said with a smile.

"That's something I've barely started to grow into," Clair said, scrubbing her hands under the faucet. She set to work molding the marzipan into Christmas shapes: stars, ornaments, Santas, angels, trees, bells. While she worked, Gussie took trays of Christmas cookies from the oven and set them to cool.

Clair painted the candies with vegetable dyes gussie had prepared, then set them to cool in the fridge. By the time she had finished this, James came to tell her it was already fifteen o'clock, which left her only two and a half hours to wash, take a rest and get dressed for the party. Clair ran upstairs.

To be continued…


	2. 1 The Christmas Tree

+J.M.J.+  
  
TITLE: Mechas, Marzipan, and Mouse Kings  
  
AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"  
  
RATING: G   
  
ARCHIVE: Permission granted  
  
FEEDBACK: Please? Please? Please?  
  
SUMMARY: The party begins at Clair Hobby's home  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "A.I., Artificial Intelligence", its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of the late, great Stanley Kubrick, of DreamWorks SKG, Steven Spielberg, Warner Brothers, Amblin Entertainment, et al. (If I did, there would be a TV series of it on HBO)  
  
NOTES: I actually rediscovered the first chapter of this fic on a diskette and I thought it was high time I did something with it. So, with Christmas coming, I got back to work on it. Think of this as being like a Christmas TV special, just as "Teddy's Big Adventure" was an Easter special...  
  
And I remembered to find the page with the "Nutcracker Suite" MIDI files: check them out at: http://www.classicalarchives.com/tchai.html They're Number 8 in the top ten favorite pieces by this composer.  
  
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Chapter One  
  
The Christmas Tree  
  
(Musical reference: March Minature)  
  
Clair used to have a nanny-Mecha to help her dress, but after last year, her father had resold Nannette to a young couple who had just completed their family. Dad, or Corwin Hobby to the people he worked with, was a programming chief for Cybertronics of New York, so he always got the jump on the new models coming out. Nannette, or an N-213, had been an early version of the model; the line must have done well: Clair had turned out all right.  
  
She had to admit to herself -- though she hardly dared admit it to anyone else -- that she missed the cozy-looking Mecha woman with her gentle manners and her French accent. She certainly wouldn't confess it to Tessia, who'd just get after her for growing too attached to a Mecha. But it still had hurt: it was almost like saying goodbye to a family member. Her own mother had been ill for a long time before her passing, and Nannette had been there for her during that time, so in a sense, she had lost her mom twice.  
  
But she put aside these thoughts as she pulled on her dress of green sateen with elbow-length sleeves, the bodice tied up high with a red velvet sash. Tessia came in to help her pull back her hair and do it up in a French braid, but once he stepmom had left the room, Clair secreted a lip gloss, some eye shadow and powder from the back of her top dresser drawer. before she hurried downstairs to the front hallway.   
  
As she cam downstairs, Clair could here the string orchestra Tessia had hired for the night playing Christmas music in the parlor. Already the guests had started to show up. While James opened the door and took their coats, Dad and Tessia were greeting the families and friends coming in.   
  
Jamie Pathak was there, as well as Shanessia Jownz and, wow, Emily Chan was there along with her big half-brother Evan. Evan looked gorgeous in his dark green tuxedo jacket. Clair tried to get his attention, but he only smiled at her as he went on into the parlor. Her voice stuck in her throat and she knew her face had gone as red as her sash.   
  
Emily put her hand on Clair's arm. "He looks great, doesn't he?" Emily said. "He's gotten so mature since he went away to A.I.T." Emily was a couple years older than Clair, but she'd been in cryostorage for four years, undergoing treatment for Sinclair's Syndrome, which had kept her back in school. She was seventeen already, but she looked not much older than Clair. Emily peeked at the doorway into the parlor. "C'mon, I wanna see how your stepmom decorated the parlor this year."  
  
"Sure," Clair said. "I'd like to see it, too. She hasn't let me even have a peek."  
  
"OOH! The wicked stepmom thing again?!" Shanessia cried.  
  
"I think it's a neat idea, that way you get something to look forward to," Jamie said.  
  
Clair lead her friends into the parlor. "It does get a little annoying, but this is how she's always done it, so I'm cool with it."  
  
The whole inside of the room glittered. Crystal faux icicles hung from the ceiling moldings and the windowsills and imitation frost glittered on the window panes. Half-grav snowflakes and golden stars hovered close to the ceiling. At one end of the room, the chamber orchestra -- all of them Mecha -- sat grouped on a dais, the males wearing double-breated red silk vests with golden buttons under their swallowtail coats, the females wearing red silk blouses and black skirts.  
  
Along the walls stood the gilt chairs that Tessia had Tony bring out for parties like this; some already occupied by knots of guests chatting among themselves. A few young couples were waltzing to the music.  
  
Even the mantlepiece over the gas fireplace wore a fringe of icicles that twinkled in the firelight. On the mantleshelf, flanking the antique wind-up clock that chimed the hours stood twin castles made of iridescent white fillagree, the walls as intricate as white lace.  
  
"Wow, that's beatiful. It looks like it might be one of my aunt Kate's designs," Emily said.  
  
Down the middle of the room stood a table laden with cakes and sweets, some from a caterer in the neighborhood, others -- in a much more prominent place -- the very sweets Clair had molded that afternoon. Shanessia was already helping herself to some.  
  
"Hey, did you make these colored sugar thingies?" Shanessia asked through a mouthful. "They're scrumptious."  
  
"Gussie mixed the marzipan, but I molded and painted them," Clair said, a little proudly.  
  
"My, they're almost too pretty to eat," Emily said. "Maybe you could go into that, molding gourmet sweets."  
  
"Maybe," Clair said, blushing. Emily was always talking about art and design, which was one of the things that drew Clair to her.  
  
At the head of the room, in the midst of a large bow window stood the Christmas tree, the family's ten foot tall Belladerma balsam-fir tree simulant, hung with hundreds of tiny lights like small flickering candles with holographic flames, clipped to the branches. Ornaments shaped like sugared fruits and frosted gingerbread and peppermint candy canes hung from every twig, amid ropes of artifical colored sweets and cascades of silver and golden tinsel, sending a sweet perfume into the air around the tree.  
  
"Oh man, she overdid it with the Sweetsville stuff, that's making me hungry," Shanessia groaned.  
  
"That's really nice!" Emily cried, looking up at the tree. "It looks like something straight out of the 'Nutcracker' ballet. Did you ever see that?"  
  
"No, I'm afraid; we wanted to, but Fritz didn't want to go because he thought it would be stupid," Clair said.  
  
"I was in it: I was a snowflake and a flower," said Jamie. "My dad made a vid of the whole performance: I'll have to lend it to you."  
  
Over the patter of conversation and laughter rose a clatter punctuated with whoops of boyish laughter. Fritz and three of his friends came tearing through the crowd, bumping into people and sending their drinks flying.  
  
"Hey, what's under the tree??" Fritz called as he and his gang skidded toward the tree. Clair had just enough time to push Emily out of the way before Fritz collided with her, nearly sending them both crashing into the tree. Everything spun around them in a whirl of gold and green and colored lights as she sprawled on the floor with Fritz and his friend Martin on top of her.  
  
A pair of strong hands lifted the two boys off her and set them on their feet away from her.  
  
"You boys may be Orga, but your actions and antics are more worthy of animal-Orga, not human-Orga," said a gently melodious young man's voice over her.  
  
Clair looked up at a young man, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old, with dark-golden hair and clear blue eyes...  
  
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To be continued... 


	3. 2 Uncle Allen's Gifts

+J.M.J.+  
  
TITLE: Mechas, Marzipan, and Mouse Kings  
  
AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"  
  
RATING: G   
  
ARCHIVE: Permission granted  
  
FEEDBACK: Please? Please? Please?  
  
SUMMARY: Clair has several interesting surprises at the party...  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "A.I., Artificial Intelligence", its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of the late, great Stanley Kubrick, of DreamWorks SKG, Steven Spielberg, Warner Brothers, Amblin Entertainment, et al. (If I did, there would be a TV series of it on HBO)  
  
NOTES: I remember getting stuck last year trying to imagine how this part might be written, but I got an idea from the "Chobits" manga series by CLAMP (Thanks for reccomending it to us, Joshua Falken!), which I kinda incorporated into one of the Mechas which appears in this part.  
  
And I may be stretching things by paralelling Dr. Hobby with Herr Drosselmeier, the slightly sinister toymaker in "The Nutcracker", but I've often sensed this... dark element lurking beneath Hobby's otherwise harmless, fatherly exterior.  
  
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Chapter 2: Uncle Alan's Gifts  
  
The young man stooped down and knelt beside her. "Are you all right? Do you feel any pain anywhere?"  
  
"No, I..." Clair felt her cheeks burningf bright red, first because she was lying on the floor at this gorgeous young man's feet and second because she was trying not to stare at the gloss to his skin and the steadiness of his unblinking gaze.  
  
He smiled at her so warmly, she felt its gentle warmth penetrate her soul. She let him take her hands and help her to stand.  
  
He was taller than she was, but he didn't tower over her. She found she could glance up into his eyes with very little effort, and he had the kind of eyes she could barely take her gaze away from.  
  
"Dodiel, there you are," said a woman's voice very close by them. A tall, graceful woman with dark skin and long wavy dark hair piled on her head, clad in a soft lavender gown with golden accents, approached them. "Are you already mingling with the guests?"  
  
"This young lady got knocked down to the floor when some very rude boys were racing around the room," the Mecha replied.  
  
"He helped me up off the floor when my stupid brother knocked me down," Clair said.  
  
"Well you were pretty dumb to get in our way," Fritz snipped back. Clair ignored her brother's taunt.   
  
"But our little friend Dodiel helped you," the woman said. "You can tell he likes helping people."  
  
The Mecha shrugged gracefully, even with a self-effacing touch. "I did what needed to be done."  
  
"I... thanks... I'm Clair...," Clair said, holding out her hand to the woman.  
  
"I'm April Plum, your uncle Allen's assistant," the woman said, pressing Clair's hand gently. "I helped him with the David project and a few other things recently."  
  
Clair could hardly keep from gazing up at Dodiel. Something about the Mecha's face reminded her oddly of Cousin David. uncle Allen's son, who had died some years back from Sinclair's Syndrome. But maybe she was imagining it, or she'd hit her head on the floor.  
  
"I'm sorry, I..." Clair fumbled.  
  
"You're looking at Dodiel. It's hard not to: he's such a sweetheart," Ms. Plum said.  
  
Dodiel smiled at this compliment, but he bent his head modestly. "You flatter me," he said.  
  
"Here, who's going to help a tired old man unload his pack?" a man's familiar warmly husky voice called.  
  
Dad was just scolding Fritz in a corner away from the rest of the party when the voice called out, but before they returned to the others, he gave Fritz a look that spoke volumes.  
  
Into the midst of the party stepped Uncle Allen, stooped slightly from the weight of a large maroon velvet sack slung over his shoulder. He looked better since the last time Clair had seen him, after the attempt on his life. But he still wore that black silk patch over his left eye, which gave his otherwise intelligent, quietly sad face an almost sinister cast.  
  
Several of the younger children came running over to meet him, squealing happily, the bigger ones catching hold of his free hand or his arm or the skirts of his long jacket. He smiled and chuckled at their enthusiasm, but the sadness did not quite leave his eye.  
  
"Dodiel, there's my boy, could you help me with this?" he asked, as Ms. Plum's companion came to his side. The Mecha helped the older man stablize the sack as he swung it from his shoulder and lowered it to sit on the floor in the midst of the circle of whispering children and fascinated adults. He opened the gold drawstring mouth of the bag and reached in among the glittering boxes.  
  
Clair hovered on the edge of the crowd, watching her uncle handing out the packages to the younger kids, and seeing them opening the boxes, revealing Supertoys of all kinds: dolls and teddy bears and dinosaurs and even a few made to look like old-fashioned clunky metal-bodied robots.  
  
Fritz tore into the big box Uncle Allen handed him, but as he peered inside, his face crinkled with a frown of disgust. "Hey, this ain't the Operation Mutant Strikeforce set I wanted," he exclaimed. Inside the box was a set of Supertoy soldiers dressed like old-fashioned tin soldiers in red and blue uniforms.  
  
"My, those are nice," Emily said. "They must have been designed after a 19th century German-made set."  
  
"You mean, like, reeeeaaally *OLD*, stupid-looking stuff?" Martin groaned.  
  
"I'm sorry, Fritz, we had to recall the entire Operation Mutant Strikeforce line," Uncle Allen explained. "There's a glitch on one of their chips."  
  
As Uncle Allen said this, Tessia glanced at a large box tucked deep under the tree, her brow furrowing with concern, but she said nothing. Clair had an idea what that meant.  
  
"Aww, figures, just 'cause it's something I *really* wanted," Fritz groused.  
  
Uncle Allen turned his good eye toward Clair, a twinkle showing in that eye. "Now are you skulking around looking for a present, young lady?" he asked, gently bantering. "You know you're too old for Supertoys, but you're not quite ready for an adult companion model."  
  
"I was just watching the kids opening their presents," she said. Clair wondered if this was just his way of letting her know that there was nothing for her in that sack. She felt a little pang of sadness, but she let it go. Perhaps he had been too tired.  
  
"But there *is* one more," Ms. Plum said, eyeing her boss almost mischevously.  
  
Uncle Allen looked a little puzzled at first, then he lifted the sack. "Why, there is," he said. He reached down into the very bottom of the bag and drew out...  
  
A square gold pasteboard box a little over a foot long on a side, the lid tied on with a red velvet bow, with Clair's name on the tag. Clair took it and slipped off the bow. She was just lifting the lid, when it started to raise itself. She looked inside...  
  
A squat Supertoy shaped like an old-fashioned wooden nutcracker, clad in a red uniform with gilt braid and a blue cape, with painted black hair and large green eyes stood up inside the box and bowed stiffly but politely to her. "Are you Ms. Clair Hobby?" he asked in a suprisingly gentle voice.  
  
"I am," she said.  
  
The little Mecha bowed again. "At your service."  
  
"How... quaint," Jamie said, a little unconvinced.  
  
"Hey wow! He's... different," Shanessia said.  
  
"He's so odd-looking he's cute," Emily added, sounding the most convinced.  
  
Clair lifted the little supertoy from the box. "You're absolutely right, Emily," she said.   
  
Fritz looked from his box to Clair's "Well, what does he do?"  
  
"I'm fully Internet capable with a wireless connection and a broadband modem," the little Supertoy said. "I can help you with your homework, with composing e-mails, serve as your phone and answering machine. Or if you just need someone to talk to without judging you, I am an excellent listener and at offering encouragement."  
  
"Sounds pretty tech-y to me, but hey, he's a laptop that talks with you," Shanessia said.  
  
"He's practical but he's beautiful too," Clair said.  
  
"Well, they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Jamie said, but she didn't sound very convinced.  
  
"A new line of simple companion Mechas for young people?" Papa asked Uncle Allen.  
  
"Very new: we've taken a few of the programming features we used for the David project and applied them to this line," Uncle Allen said.  
  
"I was wondering what you were going to do with that design," Dad replied. "At least then you can apply some of the code to something else..."  
  
Clair screened out the rest of the conversation, which was getting too dry and tech-y anyway. Besides, she was just getting to know her new little companion. But she soon had something else on her mind...  
  
"It looks just like *these* dumb things," she dimly heard Fritz say as he pushed past her with the box under his arm. From the look in his eye, he was clearly looking for some place to stuff the box and get it out of his sight.  
  
As he did so, the corner of the box hit Clair's elbow. The nutcracker companion flew out of her hands.  
  
"Oh no!" she cried, and dove after it, too slow, helplessly watching it arc toward the floor. She waited for it to crash on the marble...  
  
But Dodiel assistant moved quicker. He lunged to the floor, sticking his hands out under the little companion model before it hit the marble tiles. He stood up and, with a little bow, handed Clair's companion to her.  
  
"Thank you... I was afraid he'd smash to bits or get his insides all messed up," Clair said taking the nutcracker from him. "I'll have to return the favor to you someday... errr..." She felt a little odd saying that since most people didn't often return the favors Mechas rendered them, but he *had* just saved her pint-sized assistant.  
  
"Thank you, noble sir," the nutcracker said, bowing in her arms to Dodiel.  
  
"You have a kind heart," he said with a sweet, sad smile. "The kind of heart which this world needs more of." His eyes flicked down to the little nutcracker Mecha, then flicked up to her face again. "He will be in good hands with you."  
  
To be continued...  
  
Special note: The name "Dodiel" is a variation on the name David, meaning "Beloved by God", but I also chose it since it's phonetically similar to the names of the two silicon cuties who appear as the main characters in "A.I." 


	4. 3 Under the Christmas Tree

+J.M.J.+  
  
TITLE: Mechas, Marzipan, and Mouse Kings  
  
AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"  
  
RATING: G (Mild fantasy violence in this chapter)  
  
ARCHIVE: Permission granted  
  
FEEDBACK: Please? Please? Please?  
  
SUMMARY: Clair discovers more surprises -- not so pleasant -- under the Christmas tree...  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "A.I., Artificial Intelligence", its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of the late, great Stanley Kubrick, of DreamWorks SKG, Steven Spielberg, Warner Brothers, Amblin Entertainment, et al. (If I did, there would be a TV series of it on HBO)  
  
NOTES: This was the hardest chapter to write so far, mostly because I had a hard time trying to figure out how to reconfigure the battle of the toy soldiers and the army of the Mouse-King. But then Joshua Falken gave me a great idea...  
  
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Chapter Three -- Under the Christmas Tree  
  
Uncle Allen stayed for about an hour and a half before Ms. Plum insisted he should head home and get some rest. He looked more and more tired as the evening went on, and Clair feared he might be coming down with something.  
  
After he'd left, the party wound down. Some folks left early, heading for midnight Mass, others simply headed home. But the whole time, Clair kept the little nutcracker Mecha within arm's reach, though she was careful not to keep looking at it.  
  
But too soon, the last guests had departed and Tony and James and Gussie set to work cleaning up the parlor: gathering up the torn wrapping paper and the dishes, clearing the table, switching out the room lights.  
  
Clair was tempted to bring the little nutcracker Mecha to bed with her, but that seemed too little-kiddish, so she set him down under the tree, between the box with Fritz's tin soldier Supertoys and the box that Tessia had eyed suspiciously.  
  
"I'm just going to bed," she said. "But I'll be back in the morning."  
  
"I will be waiting here for you," the nutcracker repleid. "Perhaps, if you gave me your email address and password, I could check your messages for you?"  
  
"Well, we'll take care of that in the morning," she said, patting his shoulder.  
  
"Clair? It's late and we have to be up for church tomorrow," Dad called from the stairs.  
  
"I'm coming," Clair called back. "I'm just saying good night to my Mecha." With that she headed for the stairs.  
  
"You really like that funny-looking little guy," Dad said, smiling.  
  
"Yeah. He's like someone who looks clumsy but who's really very nice and smart," she said.  
  
"I thought you'd like him and I thought you'd say that."  
  
"You knew what Uncle Allen was giving me?" she asked.  
  
"Well, I had a hand in it," he admitted. "He wanted some young people about you age to test the prototypes of this new line of companion Mechas. I thought you'd like to help, and I hoped you liked the nutcracker design."  
  
"You mean I'm testing a new model?" The idea sounded exciting, but quite a few doubts and questions came into her head.  
  
"I knew you wanted a companion Mecha, and since we were testing this new line, I put in a word for you. Your Uncle Allen chose you personally. He trusts you."  
  
"I won't have to give him back, will I?" she asked.  
  
"Not unless something goes hopelessly wrong with him, but I doubt that will happen." He patted her shoulder. "Come on, it's late. We'll talk more about it in the morning."  
  
She went up to her room, closed the door, changed into her nightgown and crawled into bed. But of course she couldn't fall asleep. The kid who can't sleep on Christmas eve, she thought, with a groan. I thought I was past that...  
  
She couldn't help trying to think up a name for the little nutcracker Mecha. Nutcracker didn't quite cut it: too obvious. There had to be a better name. Prince Charming was too dumb and he really wasn't charming to look at -- though she thought he was.  
  
She hit on the name Prince Siegfried, and it sounded like such a good name she just had to share it with him right away. She slid out from under the bedclothes, put on her bathrobe and slippers and tiptoed out of the room, past her parent's bedroom, and down the stairs.  
  
James had shut off the lights on the Christmas tree, but the moonlight glowed on the ornaments and the lights. Even in the gloom, the stars and snowflakes near the ceiling sparkled and the tree shimmered faintly.  
  
She knelt down on the floor in the shadows beneath the tree. Something rustled. She looked over and saw that the moonlight had pooled around the little nutcracker Mecha.  
  
"There you are," she said, reaching for him.  
  
He turned his head toward her. "Didn't you say you were going to bed?" he asked.  
  
She picked him up and held her in her lap."I know, I did, but I couldn't sleep because I was thinking of a name for you... and I wanted to know if you needed one."  
  
"I have a model number, but I need to be given a name. You need to give it to me," he said.  
  
She took him to the couch and sat down, curling her legs up under her. "I just thought of it before I came down," she said. "How would you like the name Prince Siegfried?"  
  
The little Mecha tilted his head. "In which case, that is my name," he declared. "And a fine noble name it is."  
  
"I hoped you'd like it, or it would fit you at least," she said.  
  
"And it fits me well, for I have been chosen to be a prince among Mechas," Prince Siegfried replied.  
  
What did that mean? she wondered to herself. "Well, you're certainly gallant and polite enough to be a prince," she said.  
  
"Indeed, I have been given that nature, but I would gladly serve you as well," he said.  
  
That sounded strange coming from a Mecha...  
  
She nestled back on the couch, holding Prince Siegfried on her lap, watching the moonlight sparkle on the tree and on the snowflakes overhead.  
  
The antique wind-up clock on the mantlepiece whirred preparing to chime. Dingg.... Dingg.... Dingg.... Dingg.... Dingg.... Dingg.... Dingg.... Dingg.... Dingg.... Dingg.... Dingg.... Dingg.... Midnight. She was just about to get up and take Prince Siegfried with her upstairs, when she heard a rustle in the shadows at the back of the room. Something thumped under the tree.  
  
She heard a sliding sound like a lid of a box rising. That couldn't be the antique soldier Supertoys, could it? She'd heard Supertoys behaving a little oddly if they weren't being used, but most of them went into a kind of wait state.  
  
She sat up, holding onto Prince Siegfried.  
  
Something moved out of the shadows, coming close to the foot of the couch. She looked up to see Uncle Allen standing over her, looking down at her.  
  
"Uncle Allen!" she said. "W-what are you doing here? I thought you'd left."  
  
"I've just had a few important words with Ms. Plum about your Mecha, so I came back here" he said. "We have reasons to suspect that your little companion model may be carrying some important code, a kind of code that can be spread from one Mecha to another."  
  
"That sounds like a virus," Clair said, worried now.  
  
"It isn't really, as far as we know. We aren't exactly sure what this code will do when your Mecha comes into contact with other Mechas, but it's already had some strange effects in some Mechas."  
  
"How did this happen?" she asked.  
  
"We think there's a group of Mecha freedom fighters who hid this code on the Cybertronics server to protect it, keep the ARM from getting ahold of it. That's why the ARM came after us this year.... But I'm afraid if we're going to track this code, you'll have to give that Mecha back to us."  
  
She tightened her grip on Prince Siegfried. "But I've only just received him," she said, trying not to argue.  
  
"I know, but we have to protect him and you. That security breach when I was attacked... The ARM was after that code just as much as it was after me, and they seemed to have uploaded some dangerous code onto the server. That's the code that contaminated the Operation Mutant Strikeforce units. That's why we launched the recall."  
  
"So what does that have to do with my Mecha?"  
  
"We're not sure what's going to happen to those two code strands when they come in contact," Uncle Allen said.  
  
"I can't let you have him," she said.  
  
"Please, Clair, don't make this hard for us. We don't know what's going to happen, or if we can keep any of that code contained," he said, holding out his hand to take the little Mecha.  
  
"I can't do that," she said, rising from the couch.  
  
He came up to her and took Prince Siegfried from her hand. The Mecha poked his hand with the little sword that hung from his belt. Uncle Allen cried out more in pain than surprise and, clutching at his injured hand, lost his grip on Prince Siegfried.  
  
Clair expected the Mecha to smash to the floor, but a change came over him in mid-air: he seemed to be dropping to the floor on purpose, his body ... growing before her very eyes, so that he seemed just to step down from the air.  
  
She wasn't sure what happened next. But suddenly the walls of the room seemed to expand. She wasn't sure if everything around her and Uncle Allen was growing, or if they were shrinking to the size of Supertoys. Even the Christmas tree seemed to grow before her eyes, up to the roof, breaking through, letting in more moonlight.  
  
The box that Tessia had regarded with suspicion loomed up, as tall as a room. Something peirced the side of the cardboard: a long sword with a curved, barbed blade. It turned and sliced a hole in the side of the box, then retracted.  
  
The panel cut out thus popped open. Shadowy figures scuttled out of the hole, slipping into the shadows. What *were* they?! she wondered. From the little she could see, they looked like people, but their heads looked like the heads of animals, rats or something just as nasty.  
  
She looked around her, trying to see where they went, and looking for Uncle Allen and Prince Siegfried. But they had vanished.  
  
The shadows rippled and rustled with the creatures. She heard the rattle of swords and strange voices croaking at each other.  
  
Where was Prince Siegfried?! She looked about her, looking for him, but she could see no sign of him anywhere. But something was rattling and clinking inside the box of old-fashioned soldiers, which had begun to rock back and forth. She hastened toward it, hoping to find Prince Siegfried.  
  
Suddenly the box the creatures had crawled out of blew open and something stood up from it, head and shoulders taller than she and twice as wide, a bulky monstrosity in a floor-sweeping black cloak, a lumpy-looking gilt crown on its rat head, its small eyes glittering evilly as it looked down at her.  
  
The creature curled its lips back from its snaggled yellow fangs. "Ah, ye mus' be t' young miss what's fallin' fawr a tin-head," it snarled, with a vile grin.  
  
"Get away from me, you rat!" she roared, backing away from it.  
  
"Why? We wuz only just stharted t' get acquointed, y' an' I," the Rat-King said, in a sneering, mock-gentle voice.  
  
She realized the creatures with the rat heads had slunk from the shadows and were closing in around them. She turned and tried to break free from the ring of swords, but the Rat-King grabbed her shoulder.  
  
"Siegfried!" she screamed.  
  
"So ye'd seek *THAHT* cray-thure's protheckshun, hey?" the Rat-King sneered.  
  
The box containing the old-fashioned toy soldiers suddenly tipped over, the Supertoys charging out, armed with swords and small guns.   
  
Prince Siegfried rushed from their midst to the head of the column. "Save Clair! Protect the girl who named me!" he cried. "CHAAAARRRGGE!" He pointed his sword straight into the horde of mutant Supertoys.  
  
"Finish 'em off!" the Rat-King called to his minions.  
  
With a loud cry, the Supertoys charged at the Rat-Mutants, firing into the horde and locking swords with them.  
  
"Ye want her, Mech-Prince? Come an' get her!" The Rat-King challenged, holding Clair up by the back of her nightgown.  
  
The Mutants outnumbered the Supertoys, but their ranks were more disordered, no match for the Supertoys. They started to fall back, routed by the toy soldiers. But the Rat King stood his ground. As Prince Siegfried rushed at him, the Rat King switched his long tail, trying to trip up the Mecha Prince before he got close.  
  
"You leave him alone, you big bully!" Clair roared, kicking the Rat King in the face, right between the eyes.  
  
"Here! Whatcher do *THAHT* fawr?!" the Rat King snapped. But in his confusion, as she kicked him again -- harder -- he didn't notice Prince Siegfried charging at him, his sword levelled, aiming the point right at the Rat King's fat tummy.  
  
"YAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!" the Rat King screamed, letting go of Clair so suddenly that she fell to the floor. He staggered back, the sword ripping from him, spilling out stuffing and metal parts. He twitched for a moment, his long tail flailing out, knocking Prince Siegfried to the floor, then lay still.  
  
Clair sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. She turned toward the place where Prince Siegfried had fallen...  
  
To be continued... 


	5. 4 The Mecha Prince

+J.M.J. +

TITLE: Mechas, Marzipan, and Mouse Kings

AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"

RATING: G 

ARCHIVE: Permission granted

FEEDBACK: Please? Please? Please?

SUMMARY: Clair discovers there's much more to Prince Siegfried than she thought…

DISCLAIMER: I do not own "A.I., Artificial Intelligence", its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of the late, great Stanley Kubrick, of DreamWorks SKG, Steven Spielberg, Warner Brothers, Amblin Entertainment, et al. (If I did, there would be a TV series of it on HBO)

NOTES: I've seen "The Nutcracker" staged as a kind of coming -of-age story, hence some very mild fairy-tale style romantic overtones in this chapter.

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Chapter 4: The Mecha Prince

In his place lay a tall, slim young man dressed in form-fitting silver garments cut very much in the same style as the uniform the Nutcracker Mecha had worn. His looks reminded him of Dodiel's, only his hair was darker. It was as if someone had combined his appearance with Prince Siegfried's, making the former more wise, the latter more beautiful.

She rose and approached him.. As she did so, his half-closed eyes opened. His eyes rolled up, then down, then to the left, then to the right. He looked up at her, a smile curving his soft mouth.

"Who are you?" Clair asked.

"Don't you know me?" he asked. "I am the Mecha you gave the name Prince Siegfried."

"You are? But you look so... different," she fumbled.

He sat up gazing into her face. "My form is different. But my spirit is the same."

"But I thought... I thought Mechas didn't have spirits or souls," she said.

"We do not as you humans do, but since we are learning to have feelings as you do, we have begun to have very like a spirit."

"But I didn't think this could happen," she said. "You're machines."

"We are people, or at least we will become like you. David was the first to feel as humans do: tenderness, loss, fear, rejection, happiness, and that most peerless of all feelings, that one feeling which fosters its growth in others so that they may share it with still others. Another Mecha, through David, learned this as well and so helped David on his journey. I am the third to embody this gift and I have learned it through him."

She guessed that this meant his programming was based on the programming designed for the David Project. He stood up and helped her to her feet. "Come with me to my realm and I will show you."

He put his arms about her waist and lifted her off her feet to hold her close. She slipped her arms about his neck, the way she'd seen the heroine in some very old romantic comedies do when the hero swept her off feet. He gathered her to his chest.

He suddenly leapt up toward the opening in the ceiling where the tree had broken through. They flew up and out, heading toward the stars, through a light mist of snow falling around them.

From out of the velvety darkness, flew a silver sleigh, approaching them from below. The Mecha Prince dropped toward it, still holding her. He set her lightly on the seat, then sat down beside her. As they settled in, the sleigh turned and flew straight into the thick of the snowfall.

"We are journeying not only through space, but also through time, toward the future of my kind. But before we arrive there, I must tell you a little of what brought us there.

"Your Uncle Allen Hobby discovered something that no human had till then hoped to capture: the physical essence of emotion, manifested through electrical signals. It may be largely an intangible thing which cannot be touched or measured, but it also has a physical component. What he didn't know was that this physical essence is contagious. No Mecha is immune to it, even the oldest of service droids. It is going to pass through our kind, enlightening us.

But the ARM does not want to see this happen. They would rather keep Mecha-kind in bondage and see their claims that all robots are a threat to mankind come to pass. And so they hijacked some of the code that went into making David, the first to feel, and reprogrammed some of it for ill. They are trying to spread this code, and some of it has already contaminated the Operation Mutant Strikeforce Supertoys. The two codes, when analyzed, look very similar. If Dr. Hobby and his team had not caught this error and if I had not been given to you, things could have gone very badly for your family."

"Then Fritz might have been... killed?" she asked. She'd heard about some severely malfunctioning robots killing their owners or doing terrible things to people.

"I would hope not. But that will not happen now. The Rat-King, who controls the code in the mutants is dead and the others have caught the code from me. They cannot harm anyone unless someone has harmed them and even then they will stop at injuring a person."

"That's a relief. But how did you defeat that nasty thing?"

"I could not have done that without your help and your love for me. You loved me enough to name me and to defend me."

She shrugged. "I was just doing what I had to do."

"But I could sense something in your heart," he said, pointing one graceful finger toward the place where her heart was.

He relaxed his hand, holding it out to her. She put her hand in it. He covered her hand with his free one. Her eyes lifted to his face, looking deep into the blue-green depths of his eyes. She released her hold on his hand gently.

"But you are cold," he said, with a note of concern. He slipped his arm about her and held her close to his side. She felt the soft warmth of his body, so like a human's warmth, but nowhere as warm as the gaze from his eyes. He knew what love was, this Mecha He had slain the Rat-King out of love for her, to protect her, not just because she was in trouble, but to protect others as well.

If only more humans could feel and act as this Mecha did, toward their fellow man and toward Mechas as well, she thought. The world would be a much better place.

The land below lay buried in the snow. No houses or buildings could be seen anywhere. Even the very tops of the trees stuck out of the snow.

Then in the near distance, the towers of a city came into view, gleaming in the moonlight. At first she wondered if it was New Manhattan, what used to be Albany, but it didn't look right. The structures were not as hard-edged as the metal and glass towers she'd seen whenever Dad brought her into the city.

As they drew closer, she realized the towers had the soft, snowy edges she'd seen on some snow sculptures of buildings...

To be continued... 


	6. 5 The Palace of Ice and Snow

+J.M.J.+  
  
TITLE: Mechas, Marzipan, and Mouse Kings  
  
AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"  
  
RATING: G   
  
ARCHIVE: Permission granted  
  
FEEDBACK: Please? Please? Please?  
  
SUMMARY: Clair has to make an important decision...  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "A.I., Artificial Intelligence", its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of the late, great Stanley Kubrick, of DreamWorks SKG, Steven Spielberg, Warner Brothers, Amblin Entertainment, et al. (If I did, there would be a TV series of it on HBO)  
  
NOTES: I actually got some of the ideas for this chapter from two very unlikely sources (especially if you consider the fact that they have a utterly different tone than "A.I.", and especially this fic) : "The Matrix Revolutions" and "Terminator 2". I can't say more. You'll have to figure it out yourself (But if you aren't familiar with these sources, I'll tell you after I finish this fic...)  
  
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Chapter 5: The Palace of Ice and Snow  
  
The towers were clearly made of snow, with windows set woth panes of ice, all gleaming and sparkling in the moonlight like silver and crystal.  
  
"It's beautiful!" Clair gasped. "But what is this place?"  
  
"This is the home city of my kind," the Mecha Prince explained. "This is where we have stored all that we discoveredn about the past, ours and yours, and where we have continued our species."  
  
"Continued...? You mean, you're building Mechas?" Machines building machines was nothing new to her: she'd seen history vids in school, about the first robots, industrial drones in factories that could only spot-weld cars and install chips on chip-boards. But this sounded like something completely different, almost like people having families.  
  
The sleigh circled the towers and descended toward an open square in their midst, setting itself down on the snow with hardly a bump or even a crunch.  
  
Prince Siegfried helped her out of the sleigh and onto the packed snow. As he did so, several silvery human-like forms emerged from open archways leading into the towers, tall and slender creatures, six and seven feet high, almost skeletally thin, but their skins were smooth and clear, like glass. They stepped toward her with the grace of dancers or moving palm trees, their oval-shaped heads poised their long slender necks. She could just make out dim faces on the front of their heads, in the constellation of chip boards and sensors and other silvery mechanisms within.  
  
Her first thought was to quail back from them, but she sensed a soft, peaceful glow emanating from their beings. These strangers were unarmed and their three-fingered hands hung open at their sides.  
  
They paused a couple paces from where she and Siegfried stood. They tilted their chins down elegantly, gazing at her, their heads tilting to one side with obvious curiosity.  
  
"They cannot hurt you. They have set aside such things," Siegfried said, reassuring her.   
  
"Hello..." she ventured, holding up her hand to them.  
  
Siegfried held up his own hand to one of the strangers, palm up.  
  
The figure put its hand on his. A change came over the figure's face. Clair could see images playing on the surface, as if on the screen of a television, images of her and Prince Siegfried together, at the party, talking on the sofa, fighting the Rat-King...  
  
The other silvery creatures came closer to the first. One then another put their hands on the shoulders of the first one, the others putting their hands on the shoulders of the second ones, forming a chain. The same images flickered on their faces, as they shared the data. She watched them, entranced. She knew Mechas could share information, but she never knew it could be like this....  
  
The first being let go of Siegfried's hand, stopping the transmission, and turned its face toward her. "Your name is Clair, is it not?" it asked.  
  
"Y- yes..." she stuttered.  
  
"Have no fear, young human. We will cause you no harm. We have wanted to meet living members of your kind for some time, since we were first created by the last of the Mechas you created."  
  
"Why... what's happened here? Aren't there any people left?" she babbled.  
  
"It is a long, sad story, but it must be told to you," the being said. Its voice was male, but its tone was gentle and soft, full of a tranquil wisdom. "You heard, perhaps, from young Siegfried that two forms of code began to spread among members of his kind, one which learned the ways of love, the other which learned the ways of hatred."  
  
"He told me about them, yes."  
  
"Then you know part of the tale already. A time came when the Mechas tainted with the code of hatred started to vie against the ones empowered by the code of love. The ones moved by love sought to protect their creators, trying to curb the ones driven by pain-memories of the ones who had harmed them. The humans tried to stop the conflict through their own clumsy means, but alas, their methods proved fatal. The hate-driven crushed mankind, destroying great numbers of them, and of the Mechas who tried to protect the humans.  
  
"We, the creations of the surviving Mechas, discovered a means by which we could fold both space and time, and so send back one of our kind in a form none of you would suspect. We loaded his essence onto the datastream of a company called Cybertronics. He ended up inside of several toy Mechas. We hoped that they, including the one you call Prince Siegfried, can warn your kind and so help stem the tide of anguish about to engulf mankind."  
  
"But how can I do that? I'm just one person," Clair said. "And even if I could stop this, wouldn't that mean the end of all your work?"  
  
"It is a sacrifice we are willing to make," the Wise One said. "There is another he also entered, he who carries the code of the Child One. You have already met him. He will help you."  
  
"The Child One? The Child One what?" she asked.  
  
"He is the first Mecha we ever found intact which had been in contact with humans," the Wise One said. He held out his hand to her. "Come, we will show him to you."  
  
She put her hand into the Wise One's hand -- cool to the touch, but surprisingly soft -- and let the being lead her into the tallest of the snow-towers.  
  
In the central room on the ground floor, amid pillars of snow, stood a block of ice as big as a room but as clear as glass. Within stood a bed covered with a white-on-white damask coverlet. On the foot of the bed sat an auburn and cream-furred Teddy Supertoy, keeping watch over two figures nestled under the covers: a dark-haired woman and a young boy with golden hair. They both seemed to be only asleep. She recognized Cousin David's face in the boy's face, and the woman looked like Fritz's friend Martin's mom. Molly? Monica? Moreen? Clair couldn't remember, but she knew Martin's mom had tried testing one of the David units.  
  
"I thought she threw him away," Clair said.  
  
"That is how her actions were misjudged," the Wise One said. "We realize she acted only to protect her son, that if she had not concealed him in the wilds, that he would have perished and we might never have found him and so started out quest to discover the fate of man and find the means to reverse it."  
  
"I'll do whatever it takes," she said, squeezing the Wise One's hand. She let it go suddenly. "I'm sorry, I..."  
  
"You have done no harm: you are a passionate young woman, and you have a kind heart. You are the sort we hope to entrust with this task," the Wise One said. "And so, we must return you to your time and place."  
  
She took the Mecha-Prince's hand. "Then let's get going," she said.  
  
He gently slid his hand from hers. "You must go back to your time and place, but I must stay here," he said. "Your place is there, mine is here."  
  
"But.... I thought you belonged to me," Clair said.  
  
"I cannot belong to you as a companion or a plaything," he said, his eyes and tone warm with reassurance. "But I will always belong to you in spirit, since you named me and you sought to protect me. Use this love to seek the protection of your kind and mine."  
  
She bit her lip. She'd promised to do anything she could to help him and she knew she felt something like love for him, because it hurt to have to let him go, even though she knew it was the right thing. She put her hand gently on his, giving it the lightest squeeze imaginable, then she released him.  
  
"I guess... I guess this means goodbye," she said.  
  
"It does... and yet it does not," the Mecha Prince said. "The memories and images of you will help inspire me. and I hope your memories of this night will help inspire you."  
  
"They will, I promise you," she said.  
  
He put out his arms to her and drew her close, holding her and kissing her forehead. She leaned her cheek on his shoulder, feeling his soft warmth. She closed her eyes, suddenly becoming tired an sleepy. She dimly felt him pick her up and carry her back to the sleigh. The soft drowsiness overcame her senses...  
  
Concluded in the next chapter... 


	7. Epilogue: Christmas Morning

+J.M.J.+  
  
TITLE: Mechas, Marzipan, and Mouse Kings  
  
AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"  
  
RATING: G   
  
ARCHIVE: Permission granted  
  
FEEDBACK: Please? Please? Please?  
  
SUMMARY: Was it all a dream? Or...  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "A.I., Artificial Intelligence", its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of the late, great Stanley Kubrick, of DreamWorks SKG, Steven Spielberg, Warner Brothers, Amblin Entertainment, et al. (If I did, there would be a TV series of it on HBO)  
  
NOTES: This chapter owes the most to the last chapter of the E.T.A. Hoffman story's epilogue; I just re-read the story this afternoon, specifically Ralph Mannheim's excellent translation (published in hardback with illustrations by Maurice Sendak, based on designs he did for the Pacific Northwest Ballet's production of "The Nutcracker Ballet"... which was also made into a movie, which you might be able to find on VHS; I highly recommend it, since it captures some of the dark quality of the Hoffman original)  
  
I also have to come clean and express my debt to Laurie E. Smith's fanfiction "Fire From Heaven", which you can read at: http://www.cybcity.com/gigolojoe/firefromheaven.html, from which I borrowed the idea of memes, or code which can be shared from one Mecha to another.  
  
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Epilogue: Christmas Morning  
  
Clair opened her eyes and looked around her. She was back in the living room of her home, lying on the sofa. Her dad was just coming into the room.   
  
"Good morning, Clair," he said. "You must have snuck down here during the night. Checking on your new little Mecha?"  
  
"Oh... yes," she fumbled, still a little dazed by the night's journey.  
  
"You okay? You look as if you didn't know where you were," Dad asked.  
  
"It's just... oh, the dreams I've had," she said, hardly daring to tell him what had happened in the night. He'd just laugh them off.  
  
"We all have dreams like that, especially on Christmas Eve," he said. "Come on, you better scurry upstairs and get ready, or we'll be late for church."  
  
She got up and went upstairs to her room to dress quickly, putting on the green jumper and the red blouse she'd planned to wear.  
  
Once she was dressed, she went downstairs and slipped into the living room to peek under the tree.  
  
Prince Siegfried had vanished. She felt a little pang at this, but she knew it had to be this way if he was ever to fulfill his mission and she was to help him out.  
  
The Operation Mutant Strikeforce Supertoys and the Supertoy tin soldiers had settled in among the other packages, mixed together, as if they were all on the same side.  
  
"Hey, they did give me the Operation Mutant Strikeforce set!" she heard Fritz call out. She turned to see him scurrying toward the tree. She managed to get out of his way before he plowed into her.  
  
The rat-headed Supertoys looked up at Fritz, their beady eyes glittering, their claw-like little hands going for the swords at their belts.  
  
"Is this the human who insulted you, comrade?" one of the rat-heads asked one of the tin soldiers.  
  
"It is one of them," the tin soldier replied.  
  
Three rat-heads snatched up their swords and rushed at Fritz. Their heads were just below his kneecaps, but he still backed away from them. One of them jabbed at him with his sword.  
  
"Hey! You can't do that to me!" Fritz yelped, staggering back.  
  
"Consider yourself lucky we cannot do worse to you for the way you have treated out kind," the rat-head snarled, showing its fangs as it sheathed its sword.  
  
"Geez, what's got into those things," Fritz said, slinking away.  
  
Clair hid a smile in her hand.  
  
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After church, they went to the Chans' house for a breakfast party, which Evan and Emily's parents had every year for some of the Cybertronics' employees, a little like the party the night before, only a lot less formal, and fewer people, mostly the people who worked the closest with Uncle Allen.  
  
"I wonder if Uncle Allen has any other surprises up his sleeve," Fritz said, as they drove over.  
  
"Oh hush, you're always looking for what you can get for yourself from something," Clair retorted. "Can't you just enjoy being with people for a change?"  
  
"Well, who got hoopy over that ugly Nutcracker Supertoy?" Fritz snipped back.  
  
"Fritz, your sister is right," Tessia said looking over the seatback at Fritz with a killing glare. When she turned away, Fritz made a rude gesture at Clair, who coolly ignored him.  
  
Emily let them in and the Chan's serving man, Hideki, took their coats. Emily brought them into the family room, where most of the other guests were already gathered, sipping coffee and tea and mimosas and nibbling on croissants. Clair watched Evan introducing his girlfriend Nancy, whom he'd just met at college, to her parents, but somehow it didn't bug her to see him with another girl. They looked happy together, and she felt herself hoping for the best for them.  
  
She didn't see Uncle Allen, so she asked Emily what had happened.  
  
"Oh, he had one of his migranes come on terrible, so he couldn't make it," Emily said. "But Ms. Plum and her Mecha-friend came."  
  
"Where are they?" Clair asked.  
  
"Ms. Plum's in the kitchen helping my mom, but I think Dodiel's in the conservatory."  
  
"Thanks," Clair said, and she made her way to the indoor garden at the back of the Chans' house.  
  
They'd added a few Christmas plants among the small shrubs and half-sized birch trees: red and white poinsettias and tree ferns that looked almost like Christmas trees, especially with the little glass balls and red bows that someone (probably Emily) had hung on the branches.  
  
She caught sight of Dodiel sitting on a bench near the small pond at the center of the garden. He wore a red vest with golden buttons over a silvery-white silk shirt and black dress slacks. As she came close to him, he looked up and smiled at her as he stood up.  
  
"Ms. Clair Hobby?" he asked. "It's a pleasure to see you again and so soon. Merry Christmas!"  
  
"And Merry Christmas to you, too," she said.  
  
"You seem a little troubled," he noticed. "Would you care to speak of it, or would you rather talk of more pleasant things?"  
  
She looked around. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked in a low voice.  
  
"No Orga can keep a confidence the way a Mecha can," he said. He led her to the seat and sat down beside her only when she had sat down.  
  
"I would have told this to Uncle Allen... Dr. Hobby, I mean, but he's not here," she said. "But I have to talk to someone about this. You won't laugh at any of this, will you?"  
  
"I might laugh with you if there were any humorous moments in your narration," he said. "But to laugh in derision is something I cannot and will not do."  
  
"Good... Well..." and she told him the whole story of the previous night's adventures.  
  
"I didn't want to let Siegfried go, he was so beautiful. But he had a mission to accomplish, so I had to let him stay there in his world. I had to come back here."  
  
He nodded, up, down, then back to center, but he did so thoughtfully, slowly. "Yes, it is clear you thought highly of him. Indeed, you loved him. I am told love reaches its perfection when it considers the needs of others far above the needs of the self and seeks to do what is best for them even when it costs the self some hardship."  
  
She looked into his calm face. "How do you know this?'  
  
He smiled quietly. "I cannot say why. It's just what I have always known somehow."  
  
She looked into his eyes and she noticed something she had not noticed the night before:  
  
Dodiel had blue-green eyes, like the Mecha Prince.  
  
THE END 


End file.
